


Paranoia

by Halevetica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pack House, Paranoid stiles, Worried Derek, Worried Pack, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halevetica/pseuds/Halevetica
Summary: Stiles is acting extra paranoid and the pack assuming it's just his PTSD but then they find out it's more serious than that.





	Paranoia

Stiles checked the front door of the lake house for the second time before making his way to the large living room where the pack was gathered.

"You alright, Stiles?" Lydia asked from her spot on the oversized couch.

"Yeah, just checking the locks," Stiles nodded, peering out the window. His eyes skirted across the dark driveway and towards the lake. The pack had moved in a few months ago. Derek had bought if from Lydia's mother and decided to move the pack into it. It kept everyone together and safer.

Lydia frowned but didn't respond. Stiles had seemed more paranoid than normal the past week.

Stiles settled onto the couch after a few moments, just as the movie started. Every Thursday they would have a movie night. It helped everyone relax a bit. It wasn't a scary movie by any means, but it was suspenseful at times which caused Stiles to jump more than once.

"You're awfully jumpy," Isaac noted, leaning towards Stiles.

"I think I'm still just reeling from the whole witch fiasco," Stiles spoke dismissively. It had only been a week since the pack had fought off a witch. She had been particularly difficult to defeat, and they'd only barely managed to.

Isaac gave Stiles a comforting pat which only caused him to jump again.

Stiles ignored the concerned look Isaac shot him. He really didn't want to dwell on it.

Once the movie had come to an end, Stiles headed for the front door, once again checking the lock. He pressed his hand to the door making sure it was completely closed, his fingers attempted to twist the lock, but it was already seated in place.

"You already checked the lock, Stiles," Lydia frowned as she watched Stiles jiggle the handle to be sure it wouldn't open.

"Can't be too careful," Stiles gave a forced smile before moving on to the back door and then to the basement to check the door there and the mountain ash he'd put down.

"Have you guys noticed Stiles' paranoia?" Lydia asked when Stiles disappeared down the steps.

"He's always been paranoid," Scott shrugged. He was used to it.

"Yeah, but it's been worse," The red head frowned at the set of stairs Stiles had gone down.

"He said he's still reeling from the witch attack," Isaac dismissed gently. He didn't think it was anything to worry about.

"I guess," Lydia agreed hesitantly. She just wasn't sure. Something seemed off but she couldn't place her finger on it.

-

That night Derek heard clanging down stairs. He checked the time through sleepy eyes to see it was nearly three a.m. Throwing the covers off of him he headed down to investigate.

"Stiles?" Derek huffed, upon realizing it was only the human.

"Derek," Stiles leapt at the sudden sound of his voice.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked frowning at him. Stiles' hair was in disarray like he'd slept on it for a week. His eyes were dark and hollowed, likely from lack of sleep.

"I was checking to make sure the stove was off," Stiles answered simply.

"Oh, okay," Derek gave a small nod before turning around to head back to bed but then he stopped. Stiles had checked the oven at least twice before starting the movie and once after.

"Stiles-"

But before Derek could say anything more Stiles was stepping past him to head up the stairs, "Goodnight, Derek."

"Night," Derek mumbled as he frowned after the human. Maybe Isaac was right and Stiles was just trying to calm down again. The witch had been a particularly unsettling foe.

Stiles slid into the cool covers of his bed. He had been up for a few hours now. The nightmare had returned. It was always the same. Stiles wished he knew how to stop it, but there was nothing that helped. He'd considered briefly telling the pack, but he was afraid they'd worry over him. He didn't want that. It was bad enough they worried as much as they did what with him being human and all. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to let sleep take over once again.

The next day Stiles was already in the kitchen when the other members of the pack woke up. He had breakfast almost ready.

"Stiles, it's not even nine, what are you doing up?" Allison frowned, Stiles had always been a late sleeper and yet he was up before everyone else more often than not lately.

"I made breakfast," Stiles gave an exhausted smile as he held out a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

"Thanks," Allison gave a smile, but it turned into a concerned scowl when Stiles turned back to the stove.

"Ooh, it smells amazing in here," Malia hummed walking into the kitchen.

"Here," Stiles held out a plate, but Malia shook her head.

"I promised Peter I'd meet him for breakfast, sorry."

"You're leaving? Alone?" panic evident in Stiles' eyes.

"Uh, yeah, we're meeting at Baker's café on Main. I promise I'll be home in couple hours," She gave a reassuring smile before grabbing her keys off the ring near the door.

"Wait, shouldn't you take someone with you? I'll go. Just give me ten minutes to throw something on," Stiles rushed over, blocking the door.

"Stiles, it's fine. It's just Peter," Malia frowned.

Stiles swallowed nervously as Malia reached past Stiles for the door.

"Do you have your phone?" Stiles asked then.

"Yeah."

"And your house key?"

"Yes, Stiles."

"Be careful. Call if you need anything," Stiles urged as he hesitantly stepped out of the way. He knew he didn't have a good reason to keep Malia from meeting Peter. Once a month they met up and got to know each other. Father daughter bonding as Peter called it.

"I will, Stiles," Malia chuckled softly before slipping out the door.

"Stiles," Allison's worried tone spoke up from behind him.

"I'm gonna go shower, there's plenty for the others when they come down," Stiles said whirling around. He didn't want to talk about whatever Allison was about to bring up. He knew he was being extra protective; he just couldn't help it.

When the rest of the pack made it down, Stiles was still upstairs so Allison told them about what happened with Malia.

"You know, he woke me up at like three this morning claiming to be checking the oven. He looked like he'd hardly slept," Derek added in.

"I'm telling you guys, something is up," Lydia crossed her arms.

"The witch really threw him, maybe it's just residual fear from that? You know how he tends to be triggered easily. It could just be a bout of PTSD," Isaac offered with a shrug.

"You're probably right," Scott nodded around a bite of eggs. "I say we give him a few days and just try to comfort him as best as possible."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

-

The sound of distant screaming pulled Derek from sleep. He bolted up only to be met with the smell of fear. He heard the sound of splashing and yelling. He hurried into the hall where he ran into the rest of the pack who were just awake and alert as he was.

"Guys, Stiles is missing," Lydia spoke stepping out of the empty room that belonged to the human.

Another shout caused the pack to hurry down the stairs.

"Stiles," Derek yelled, his alpha instincts kicking in. A pack member was in danger.

They hurried towards the woods that lined the small lake, following the sound of Stiles' pleas and the smell of blood.

When they finally reached him, he was on the ground, screaming, his feet cut from running through the underbrush with no shoes, his clothes soaked and smelling of lake water.

"Stiles," Derek knelt down next to the sobbing human.

"No," Stiles yelled, trying desperately to pull away from the alpha.

"Stiles, it's me, Derek. You're alright. I've got you," Derek pulled the human in despite his flailing arms.

Stiles stopped his yelling once he realized who was holding him.

"D-Derek?" Stiles gripped the front of Derek's white t-shirt with desperation. "Please don't let them hurt me anymore, please."

Derek tightened his grip around Stiles as he looked around. "Who Stiles?"

"Them," He pointed at the darkness.

"Stiles, there's nothing there," Derek frowned as he met the concerned eyes of the pack. They had their claws out and ready to defend Stiles, but there truly was nothing there.

"Come on, let's get you home," Derek lifted Stiles into his arms and carried him back to the lake house.

Once Stiles was warm and dry Derek noticed just how weak Stiles looked.

"Stiles, you're feverish," Derek noted the scarlet blush that filled Stiles' hallowed cheeks. They stood out against his pale skin and the ever darkening circles under his eyes.

"I'm okay," Stiles' voice croaked. It was raw from the screaming and shouting.

"How did you end up outside and wet?" Scott asked.

"I was being chased and fell in the lake and-" Stiles shuddered.

"It's alright, it was just a dream," Derek rubbed Stiles' back gently.

"You need to get some sleep, why don't you stay with me tonight, just so you can get some proper rest," Derek suggested, giving the pack a nod to let him know he would look after Stiles for the night.

Stiles only nodded.

Derek helped Stiles up the stairs and to his room.

Derek laid next to the human, holding him close. The smell of fear and exhaustion still thick around him. Derek had always been a little more protective of Stiles and not because he was human, as far as human's went, Stiles was the strongest of them in Derek's opinion. He worried for Stiles because of how strong he was. He fought to make sure everyone else was safe before him, even at his own peril. But more than that Stiles was the glue. He was there when the pack needed an ear to hear or needed a logical reasoning for anything. He was the scent that warmed Derek's soul on days when he felt overwhelmed. Stiles had always made sure to look out for Derek, ever since the beginning. Sometimes Derek feared that the supernatural world was too much on Stiles, but he couldn't imagine life without him.

Derek was just about asleep when Stiles' fear spiked. Derek woke to see a dark figure hovering over Stiles.

The human was tense next to him. His eyes screwed shut and teeth grit as he let out a whine.

"Stiles," Derek sat up quickly. The dark figure was gone so fast Derek didn't get a chance to get a good look at it.

Perhaps this was more than a bout of PTSD or nightmares getting the best of him. Maybe there was something more going on.

Stiles settled down some. Unclenching his hands and relaxing into the pillow.

Derek remained sitting up. He couldn't sleep knowing something was after Stiles. He didn't want to wake him, so he would keep watch over him. They could talk to Deaton in the morning.

-

"Its sounds like a Paranoia Timor," Deaton said with a thoughtful look. Stiles sat on a chair next to the examining table. He looked even more tired.

"What is that?" Scott asked anxiously, glancing at his best friend.

"It's a spirit of sorts. Usually summoned by someone very powerful. They feed off of fear. Usually while the victim sleeps. It can conjure nightmares to feed into their fear."

"The witch," Stiles said tiredly. "I'll feed off your fear until you have nothing left," he quoted the words she'd said to him.

"How do we stop it?" Derek growled. He was angry at himself for not realizing sooner.

"Well, you have to kill it while it's feeding. It can be hard to sneak up on so you must be quick," Deaton pulled a book from his shelf and flipped through the pages.

"How did it get in? Stiles' puts mountain ash down at night," Scott frowned.

"It's a spirit, it can cross over," Deaton shook his head.

"It's killing me, isn't it?" Stiles asked quietly, his eyes staring down at his trembling hands.

Deaton paused. He gave Stiles a sympathetic look.

"It's killing him?" Derek snarled. He was even more furious now.

"It feeds off of the fear until the human dies," Deaton nodded. He pointed to a shadowy looking figure on the page of his book.

"That's it, that's what I saw," Derek nodded.

"How do you kill something you can't touch?" Allison asked next, her hand now on Stiles' shoulder comforting him.

"Gold makes it solid, then you must stab it with salt," Deaton read from the page.

"Salt?" Scott frowned, "How do you stab someone with tiny grains of a seasoning?"

"Salt licks," Lydia perked up then. The pack looked at her questioningly.

"They're used to add minerals and such to the diet of cattle. Farmers use it all the time. They're usually in the shape of a block but we could fashion it into a stake," Lydia explained pulling out her phone.

"That would work," Deaton nodded.

"So how do we make it solid?" Allison asked next.

"I have gold flakes. Throw them at the spirit just before you stab it," Deaton pulled out a small jar of shimmering gold.

"There's a tractor supply a few miles from here. We can get a salt lick from there," Lydia held up her phone.

"Great, Isaac you and Lydia head that way," Derek nodded. He was trying to remain calm despite the anger he still felt.

"Okay, so how do we get this thing to come out and play?" Malia chimed in next.

"Stiles must be asleep," Deaton answered, looking at the human.

"No, it's killing him. We're not using him at bait," Derek snapped, his eyes flashing red briefly.

"Derek," Stiles reached out with a shaking hand, "this is the only way it'll show itself. I can make it one more day," his hand was holding weakly to Derek's wrist.

"He's right. This is the only way," Deaton agreed sympathetically.

Derek's jaw clenched. If something happened to Stiles, he didn't know what he'd do.

"How much longer until this thing sucks him dry?" Derek demanded, his eyes not looking away from Stiles'.

"It's hard to say. He's quite weak, and his fever is high."

Derek looked away from Stiles. He failed him as his alpha. He should have known something was wrong sooner.

"Come on, you can be the one to stab it," Stiles released Derek's wrist and slid his hand into the alpha's instead.

Derek gripped it gently.

"Will he recover?" Derek asked, a hopefulness to his tone.

"Yes, as soon as he is killed, Stiles will be back to a hundred percent," Deaton nodded.

"Alright, let's do this," Derek nodded.

-

The shadowy figure appeared above Stiles, causing Derek's teeth to grit at the smell of terror. He threw on the fan throwing the gold dust they'd laid along the blades. He lunged forward then and jammed the salt blade they'd carved out of the block and with a piercing screech the figure burst into dust.

"Stiles," Derek rushed to the human's side, shaking him awake.

"Der?" Stiles blinked up at Derek with a groggy tone.

A sigh of relief huffed out as Derek's shoulders slumped. "You're okay," He'd been so scared he'd lose Stiles.

"Is it over?" Stiles asked sitting up.

"Yeah, it's over," He pulled Stiles to his chest and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Stiles asked pulling back. The scarlet of the fever already fading from his cheeks.

"I should have noticed something was wrong sooner. It took you disappearing into the woods, and almost drowning in the lake for me to see it," Derek brushed a sweat dampened strand of hair from Stiles' forehead.

"It's not your fault. I didn't know either," Stiles gave a tired smile.

"You should rest, you've hardly slept," Derek glanced over his shoulder where the pack was watching with relieved eyes.

"Could you just...stay, for tonight?" Stiles asked, dropping his head as if in shame.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," Derek nodded assuredly as he settled next to the human. 

It would take God himself to pry Derek from Stiles' side.


End file.
